


Give & Take

by Daphne_Dark



Series: Frenzy [3]
Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Comfort Sex, F/M, Other, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daphne_Dark/pseuds/Daphne_Dark
Summary: ...a tender and erotic tale with love and exploration, emotional and otherwise...





	1. The Stench Of The Day

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in S3 (after Erich dies) on the night that John has had to identify Erich's body, so there are some elegaic thoughts.  
> The night in Reykjavik is also dealt with in another fiction "A Long Hot Bath." Both works are stand-alone, but it may enrich it for some readers to read both!

“Augh, this day. The _stench_ of this day. You can’t imagine… ” John’s voice showed his stress. “Come shower with me, Helen! I need to wash off the smell of work.”

Helen looked at the weary figure, leaning against the flowered wallpaper as if it were his life support. It was a strangely needy request from her John. He’d had too many long days. She stood up, smoothing her gown and robe.

“Helen, take a shower with me. Please,” John begged.

“Of course, John. Whatever you need.” She slid off her cherry satin robe. For the first time in days, there was a glint of lust in his eyes. She walked up to him, and he caressed her arms, the creamy skin of her shoulders.

He kissed her, pressing his lips against her, breathing into her neck. They walked hand in hand to the bathroom, turning on the taps.

He smoothed his hand over her satin-sleek ass, and gasped with pleasure. Then he hitched up the nightgown to put his hand on her bare skin, pressed her against him and pulled the nightgown over her head, burying his face in her cleavage.

He moaned like an animal, now, sucking, grinding… all the while kneading her buttocks urgently. She felt his cock and pressed against it; he was so hard, so good… she undid the fly completely and took him in hand, feeling him throb.

Finally he let down his suspenders and let the pants drop. She peeled the shirt off him and slung a leg around his waist, giving him more of her pussy. She was already slick with desire, and he lifted her so that both her legs were around him. He carefully stepped out of the pants that had fallen about his ankles. Into the waiting shower they went.

He leaned her against the wall, standing there, a barrier between the hard fall of the shower and her delicate skin. Let the warm needles drive into me, he thought. He reached carefully behind him (making sure both her arms were around him so she wouldn’t slip) and moved the showerhead to where the pressure was hardest.

Oh, he liked it, the punishment of it; it made him want to hide, to go further into her warmth. Then, too, it made him push into her harder, smashing her buttocks flat against the tile, smashing her breast against his.

She was going wild; pinned against the wall as she was, she was totally in his hands. She orgasmed, leaning heavily into him, then panting, rode him again until they both came, screaming like wildcats.

They slid down carefully to the shower/tub floor, out of the stream, clinched together and kissing madly. Even post-orgasm, they did not want to part


	2. In The Shower

They recovered a bit, slowly disentangling. John did, after all, want and need a shower. He put the showerhead to a less ‘massaging’ setting, and picked up his wife and the soap.

The room filled with steam, a clean whiff of soap, a fresh citrus-herby scent, and the musky residue of their sweat washing away. The suds were gentle on her body; he trailed them in patterns, and he felt the heat from her eyes. Their hands met, rubbing the soap, and they kissed sweetly…

They washed carefully and well. Helen took the soap and had John turn around. She rubbed the bar on his lumbar region, and he sighed with relaxation. She massaged lather into his back, rubbing away the tension, which was considerable. Then she rubbed a loofah across it.

“That’s surprisingly rough,” he commented.

“It’s _hygiene_ ,” she said, laughing. “You’re always going on about brisk hygiene.”

“Hah, yes.” He often teasing her about blotting her hair dry. His mind wandered to a similar conversation with his aide, Erich. His _former_ aide; he rested his forehead against the wall…

Helen was washing him lower now. She loved his backside; his glutes were firm and well-formed. One soapy hand worked its way around his cock, and he delighted in seeing her scarlet nails flashing through his dark curls. He luxuriated in her touch…

The other hand massaged his balls and buttocks. Delicately she soaped between. The soap slipped as she re-sudsed, and the corner of the bar brushed against the verge. John hissed.

“I’m sorry,” Helen apologized.

He reached back. “Don’t apologize, Dear. You didn’t hurt me. I… I liked the way it felt…” His face was slashed with bright pink, and so was Helen’s. But, gently, cautiously, she used the bar to sudse him, feeling a bit unsure. She was delighted but surprised to see his eyelids flutter with pleasure.

It was a pleasure to John… though not an entire surprise. His mind went back, unbidden, to his aide, Erich. Dear, loyal Erich, who came to him in Reykjavík to break the news of his son’s death. He had been overwhelmed with sorrow, and Erich had bathed him. A similar accident happened in the tub, though there it had been a brush of the aide’s soapy hand. But of course they didn’t pursue it. He couldn’t love his poor Erich in the ‘degenerate’ way his friend’s body craved.

A thought occurred to John. “Helen,” he whispered, “your… your fingers…” he hardly knew how or what to ask her, for he hardly know exactly what he wanted.

She touched the rim and held her finger there. “Here?” she asked.

He took a deep breath and nodded vigorously.

There was a brief pause. Helen stepped back, and John feared rejection. But soon he smelt something sweet and deeply almond-y.

“Yes, John. Forgive the scent; I’m, I’m going to use some of my bath oil…” she stammered. “Maybe it will feel better if I do...”

She pushed him forward a little, and wrapped one arm around him. With the other hand, she slid a finger in. He gasped. Helen pushed deeper and he moaned; the feelings were unreal. “More,” he rasped. She oiled a second finger, sliding it in.

John pressed a fist to his mouth; he had no idea it would feel like this! Rather than the invasive probe he feared, every motion seemed to touch a new nerve, nerves he didn’t know he had, sending surges through him. Helen was slow and careful, but the pressure was intense. She was opening him; sensations burst in his body, and seemingly his brain.

He suddenly imagined Erich, who must have dreamed of treating him so; imagined it so strongly in flashes that he saw himself and Erich through his aide’s eyes. And yet, the fantasy held no guilt for him. Instead, it filled him with a loving wish that Erich had somehow experienced the pleasure Helen was giving. With someone of his own type, of course, but worthy of his love.

He turned his face to the wall, suddenly crying out; Helen had somehow figured out the perfect place to massage him inside. Oh, that place, only a little way in, but she pressed on it, and he writhed… his cock had risen, and he moved her hand down to palm him. Every part of him seemed sexualized; his head spun…

Helen saw her husband excited and it excited her too. How could she have known how amazing it felt to touch him there? Not for him only; the tightness of him aroused her in a way she couldn’t explain. If this was ‘violating’ him, then she wished she had violated him long before. John was shuddering with pleasure; at her mercy as she had been so many times at his. She continued, pressing with delicate firmness.

He clenched hard on her hand, and then he was spent; his semen spurted against the shower wall, washing down. John slumped heavily in her arms, then righted himself.

They finished washing in silence. Finally they stepped out, facing each other and drying off. John grabbed her and held her close, brushing his lips in her hair. “Thank you,” he whispered over and over.


	3. Muguet De Bois

They meandered to the bed, cuddling and spooning. After a moment Helen got up and went to her vanity. John enjoyed watching her move.

She took out an old round glass box and started patting herself with the powder puff. John scootched over and sat on the edge of the bed, watching.

He got up and walked over. “I love the scent of your powder, Helen. I always have. The children did too…”

“Yes, remember how we used to put it on them, sometimes, after we bathed them? Seemed to soothe them, especially when they were colicky…” Her mind wandered. All the kids had fusses and colics, to some degree, but Thomas the most of all.

“Yes, I remember,” he said. Those were such beautiful times. He coughed. “Well, which Chanel number has been powdering you all these years?” His eyes danced… of the various perfumes his darling wife had used, her favorite was still Chanel No. 22.

She laughed. “Not Chanel -- Coty! _Muguet de Bois_. It’s been my after-bath powder ever since we got married. I couldn’t afford the expensive stuff, even on an Army Captain’s salary…”

She took the puff and dusted it over her collarbone, then started down her cleavage.

“Helen, if you go any lower, you’ll need your husband’s… help…” he said, looking longingly at her bosom.

“Oh you!” She hit his shoulder with the puff. His big, strong shoulders. “I should dust you… just to make sure the, what did you call it?... _stench of the day_ is gone?”

His face went still.

“Yes… as much as it can be.” He remembered the morgue; the bruised blue of his aide’s smashed face. The morgue had been ice-cold, surreal. There hadn’t been an actual stench, and he hadn’t been allowed to touch Erich’s body. He shuddered.

She paused. “Goose walking over your grave?”

He looked at her so wildly that she flinched. “Just a saying…”

He relaxed, took her into his arms. “No. Not _my_ grave.”

She looked into his eyes. Softly she asked. “Whose?”

“Erich… Raeder’s. I had to identify his body. Someone killed him, Helen.”

The shock registered on her face. “I’m sorry, John. So sorry…” They were silent for a long time, holding each other.

Finally, she picked up the box, and took his hand, leading him to the bed.

“Lie down, honey. Try and relax.” John did as his wife told him. “It worked on the kids…” she said. John heard the tears in her voice. She had been good friends with Erich’s mother, thanks to Garden Club.

She took the puff and laid it gently on him, starting with his neck and arms.

They were silent. The scent soothed him, even as it brought back memories. Mostly of Thomas, who he’d had the most chance to bathe and feed and play with. He knew Helen must be thinking of him, too.

The puff was soft, and, as she rubbed it on his stomach, it tickled. He let his mind wander. Thomas who was his son; Erich, who looked up to him like a father… and more, much more. Oh, everything was all mixed up!

Helen was patting his feet, which were very ticklish, and John thought again of Erich, washing him in that tub, and how even careful, discreet Erich couldn’t avoid tickling him. He smiled… and then tears seeped from his eyes…

Helen didn’t notice, or if she noticed, she didn’t say. She dusted all of him, letting him rest and cycle through his complicated thoughts.

When she dusted his back he found himself pleasantly aroused again.

“Why don’t you lie down, Dear?” he said. “Isn’t it your turn?” He took the puff and powdered her breasts and thighs. In between, he started kissing her; her mons and clit, made some gentle laps with his tongue.

Then he rolled her onto her stomach. He sat astride her legs, spending time on her back, and especially, her backside.


	4. Ghosts & Lovers

Helen sunk into the mattress, enjoying her husband’s ministrations. He’d always liked her bottom, patting it playfully or stroking it passionately when they made love. And often he’d taken her from behind, enjoying this view as much as the frontal.

But there was an inquisitiveness to it now, just as there was a new responsiveness when she touched him there. She was intrigued by this new focus; it disturbed her a little, even while she felt a bit… liberated. 

John must have been thinking about his aide all evening. Her husband bottled himself up too much. She was glad he finally told her, and that he was letting out some of his grief.

Helen pondered. Erich was a homosexual; she was certain of that. Though John never said so outright, they had both talked about his inability - or unwillingness - to get himself a girl. And Helen had long felt that Erich’s attachment to John was more than Reich loyalty. 

So when John asked her what she was thinking about, to her surprise she suddenly said, “Erich.”

John stopped. Then in a low voice he said, “I have, too. All evening.”

“All evening?”

“Well, most of it.” He lay down gently beside her. He felt compelled to tell her. “Even when you were pleasuring me in the shower.” 

Helen’s eyes grew wide, but she said nothing. She took his hand. 

“Not because we’d done that. We hadn’t… but I wonder if he had ever had someone to love him like that.”

Helen considered. “Well, it certainly is passionate…” 

He smiled. “Yes. It was wonderful. But not just the act – of course that – but the willingness you shared with me, and how you love me all the time. “ 

John paused. “Erich gave himself out of love for me. He always did what I asked. I hope I didn’t keep him from love…” 

“Of course you didn’t! It would have been difficult for him to live in any other way, except… quietly. And serving his community. You know that.”

“Yes, I’m all too afraid that I do…” 

She snuggled up to him, kissing him. “All the more reason we need to just keep holding on, and loving each other. Fully.”


	5. Lovers & Ghosts

They kissed some more, slowly at first. But soon they were kissing hungrily… their hands roved all over each other.

John found he could not resist grabbing her bottom, pulling her towards him. How did she feel about this? He wondered if she was she interested. He barely knew what to make of this interest himself… he wanted to pursue it, but he feared it.

Helen stroked him lightly, and half-rolled onto her stomach. “Mmmm, what are you thinking of doing next?”

“I think you know what I’m thinking of. It’s… such a strange need. Strange and confusing.” ”

His cock was already half-erect; Helen tried to imagine it inside her. It could feel good or painful or a mixture of both. But she was curious, too, and wanted so much to find out.

“So many feelings I’m not sure of,” said John. “Desire, curiosity… mixed with grief, and a bit of horror…”

“Because… of health? Fear of hurting me? The, um, associations?...”

John nodded. “All of the above. Mostly the latter; Erich, and all… Helen, I want to love you like this because I am your man, and I want to experience and be close to all of you. But it distresses me that I didn’t think of this except in light of Erich’s loneliness… and death.”

“John, you’re thinking of all the people you love, all at once. Finding out that someone you care for has died does that. I know; I’ve felt this many times.”

He kissed her shoulder and neck. “Yes. Too many.”

“Well, do you want to do this to me?”

“Yes, my Darling. Oh yes.”

She thought a moment, then pushed ahead with her thoughts. “And I want you to do this too.” She bit her lip. “I’m a bit afraid, but I’ll try. I wonder…”

“Yes, Dear?”

“Is… is ‘what’s good for the goose good for the gander’?”

He paused for a moment, but then the corner of his mouth turned upward. “Ohhh, yes.” He was shy to admit it.

She breathed out a sigh. “Good. Because that thing in the shower… I enjoyed it. And John? If… if _thoughts_ occur, to either of us, of… well, _loved ones_ … let’s not fight them. We just… remain committed to loving each other. Wayward thoughts don’t matter.”

“Yes, Helen.”


	6. Helen's Turn

John started rubbing Helen’s back as she lay on her stomach. She was so beautiful, and she relaxed into the mattress as he massaged her lower back, her body softening. She sighed deeply as he stroked her buttocks, yielding.

John put a knee between the lower part of her thighs and moved gently to the other side of her. This opened her wider and John looked with longing at her crack, and how it led down…

He opened a drawer in the nightstand. He wanted the K-Y jelly and grabbed it. In the process he pulled out a smoothish dildo. 

John looked at it with curiosity for a moment. There had been times, these last few years, where stress or his high blood pressure had gotten to him. So Helen had gone to a doctor and – ‘for health reasons’ – got a prescription to get a personal massager to alleviate stress. This had been a boon on those nights. And of course, for those times where he had to be away. John’s smirked with a bit of lust, thinking of some of the phone conversations they’d had when he’d been out of town…

But he didn’t need it tonight; he was excited to try these new pleasures with his Helen. He was getting very hard right now.

He continued smoothing his hand over her ass… she was so beautifully rounded, and curiously cool to the touch. Then he spread her just a bit.

He wanted to reassure her, so he kissed her, trailing a line of kisses up her spine, then whispered in her ear.

“Darling, I want to feel you, to fill you… but I need you to talk to me if anything feels wrong. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She turned her head to kiss him. “I will, trust me. I’m dying with curiosity, you know…”

He moved downwards, retracing the line of kisses. Then he took his hand and massaged the area, putting some gel on his hand. Very lightly he started stroking the rim, and Helen opened like a flower. He touched her gently, tracing circles and figure eights, brushing and pressing against the verge. She moaned softly…

Gratefully, he kissed her buttocks, and the lower part of her vagina, faintly licking the taint. Then, making sure he had enough gel, he inserted his finger, gently, into the hole.

She was moaning earnestly now, and John kept going further. She clenched, but there was a joyfulness about it.

“Ohhh… more… .” 

He removed his hand. “I want to be in you proper.”

“Yes, please…”

He pulled some kleenex to wipe his hands then lubed himself well. He looked at her, the curves of her ass displayed before him. He decided that if it were him, he would not mind being taken roughly… but that seemed too savage for her. Above all, he craved closeness. 

John lay on his side and pulled her over so they were spooning, loving her warmth. With the gel remaining on his hand he lubed her as well, moving her top leg up in a 90-degree angle for better access. He held her with the other arm, putting his clean hand over the triangle of coppery curls that he loved so much.

He guided himself in, and she put a fist to her mouth. He gently inserted a tiny bit more.

“The fullness…” she gasped. 

“Let me just stay at this point, then, until you want more,” he said, kissing her hair. They lay like that briefly, then she wriggled back, telling him of her desire.

He shoved in several inches. “Aaah…” she cried, and he paused. 

Not that he was unhappy in the least; if they stayed like this forever he was satisfied…  
He was fully hard, he knew, but it seemed like he was growing, expanding. Maybe because she was so tight… the blood rushed to his brain. He had never felt so physically constrained - nor so emotionally free…

“More, more,” she begged. 

He was in halfway; she was feeling all of him, wanting to burst, wanting to be burst by him. Quite unexpectedly, she started touching herself, then pulled his free hand to join, and they ground madly at her clit…

He went into her, deeper, ever deeper. She cried out, animalistically, meeting his passion. He went slow, inch by inch, acclimatizing her, but soon at each stage she urged him on…

“Aaugh!” She had orgasmed, first from the fondling, then as her husband spent himself inside her. Oh, the power of her! Helen had never been shy to express her pleasure, and her orgasms had always been strong but this… oh, god, she could tear him apart if she wanted to! 

He spasmed… not just his cock but his whole body. He was exhausted. He wearily opened his eyes. Helen’s limbs were splayed out; she was panting and dewed with sweat. He held her from behind, and they rested.


	7. Simulacrum

After a while they got up and washed. 

“Are you sore, Dear?” he asked.

“Hmm, not really sore… stretched is more like it. There were times I felt I must be trembling.”

“You didn’t seem so to me. You are always my beautiful and brave Helen…” He kissed her sweetly.

They walked back to the bed. She looked around not knowing quite what to do. Her eyes lit on the vibrator/dildo.

“Yes, that, Helen, only… well, erm… maybe not the vibrating part.”

“I think that’s best. You’ll find this intense enough, I think… judging from myself, anyway.” 

John lay prone on his stomach. She massaged her husband’s back and thighs; as much as he wanted this, still, there was a little tension. She lubricated the dildo first, then her fingers.

“Relax,” she whispered. “I’ll start like we did in the shower, then move from there…”

His tension eased away, and as Helen touched him, he thought how he was, literally, in her hands. Everything else left his mind but her embrace, her exciting him with pressing inside him, massaging… she was bringing him to the edge of climax, then back.

“Are you.. ready for more, Darling?”

“Ohhhh, yes, Helen, yes, my love…”

She reached for the dildo (also wiping her hands) and John changed position, tentatively. “Is it… better if I’m like this?” He assumed being on all fours…

She knelt behind him. “Yes, but lean on your forearms. I hope to keep you here a little while…” He did as she said, and was thankful; it took the pressure off his wrists.

His ass was magnificent, so firm and strong. And yet, so very yielding, as she’d already discovered. She inserted the dildo, and the first few inches seemed familiar to them both by now. She pushed further in.

John cried out… oh, he was in her power. “Further…” he begged. She satisfied his wish.

Oh, she was right, the fullness of it… it confused him, thrilled him. To give yourself over like this… to a man, to a woman (did it matter to whom?)… it involved total trust, a total handing over of control.

He surrendered himself to his lover. The thing was a simulacrum of course, a phallus and not a penis, so he could never feel exactly what Helen felt, but to share this surrender with her… 

Helen herself felt blood rush to her head. Oh, her John, so strong, so masculine, yet following her lead in the dance. She adored his motions, his crying out, his urging her to go further in. He was erect… she let her free hand drift to his balls, his cock, teasing, stroking…

John’s head was swimming. Soon, he was being pleasured both ways. She drove him crazy, alternating strokes between both areas. Then, as he was entering climax, she withdrew.

He crouched, quivering, but she didn’t leave him hang long; she was stroking and plunging again, in tandem. He was coming now, quickly… she shoved the dildo in to the hilt, he was coming all over her hand, his backside quivering…

John sunk to the mattress, almost fainting. Helen had her arm firmly about his waist, controlling him so that the dildo didn’t hurt him when she pulled it out and as he sank down. He caught his breath, eyes closed, and he heard her walk to the bathroom, running some water. She returned with cloths to wash and dry him. His sweet and thoughtful Helen… What had he ever done to deserve such a love?


	8. A Film For Erich

Somewhere after it all, he had yielded to sleep, and so had Helen. He had taken her in his arms. His eyes fluttered open, looking down at her white shoulders and tumbled-down hair. When she was very tired she had a tendency to softly snore, mumphing with soft kittenish noises. He adored her sex-kitten snores.

John stroked his lovely wife’s hair, thinking of their beautiful night. Nothing could take away all the pain of the previous day, the terrible loss of his friend. But Helen’s comfort and understanding had helped greatly.

His mind returned again to his poor aide’s unfortunate love life, the life that could never be. 

At one time he would have tsk’ed and, insofar as he thought about it, merely advised Erich to find a good woman. But he wondered… with each passing year the Reich emphasized Mother more than Wife, breeding more than companionship. Would a woman really have staved off his loneliness?

He looked down, at the unique, wondrous creature sleeping on his chest. Most women would not have indulged his strange need; would have expected him to perform, and perform in one arena alone. Maybe this act was feminizing, after all; maybe this is why it was so _verboten _. People insecure in their love… insecure about love itself… didn’t dare give themselves over like this. If that made he and Helen ‘degenerate’, so be it.__

__And at least it was easy for them to be together. They still had privacy to do what they wanted. Logisitics alone made life fraught with danger for Erich and his kind._ _

__He thought back to the films. He’d not seen Erich in any of them as he had seen Thomas. But he hoped that, just as he’d seen Thomas free and healthy in the films, that somewhere… there was a film or two for Erich._ _


End file.
